


New Beginnings

by Counterpoint



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Byleth & Edelgard Co-Reigning, Divine Pulse, F/F, Female My Unit | Byleth, Fluff and Smut, Goddess My Unit | Byleth, Graphic Feels, Graphic Sex, Mostly Canon Compliant, Multi, Multiplicity/Plurality, Not Compliant With Character Endings, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Plot With Porn, Post-Crimson Flower, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Sexually Confused Ingrid, Time travel abuse, Work In Progress, trauma processing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:15:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22840846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Counterpoint/pseuds/Counterpoint
Summary: Despite the bliss of finally marrying her life's love, disturbing questions permeate Byleth's thoughts. How can humanity stand on its own with her at its head? Can she tell Edelgard the truth about the goddess? Can she even really be called human? And as the deep scars left by the war catch up to her, she finds herself losing control. She has nowhere to turn, and the only one who has ever truly understood her burdens is long gone.And as she leads a shadow war against an insidious foe, she finds that that, too, has deeply personal consequences. In her most desperate moments, can she find within herself the strength to overcome these obstacles? Can she learn to return Edelgard's complete trust, and share her most dangerous secrets? And most importantly, can she find a place for divinity in a mortal world?At its core, this story is about Byleth's divinity, the trauma it has caused her, and her relationships with Sothis and Edelgard. It ranges from heavy and emotional to fun and erotic, and we hope that it is something you will enjoy reading as much as we enjoy writing.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth, Minor or Background Relationship(s), My Unit | Byleth & Sothis, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Undisclosed Relationship(s)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 43





	1. 0. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> AO3 doesn't let you start chapter numbering at 0, which is a shame because this is a prologue and not chapter 1, so all the chapter numbers will be off. This prologue has had some major revisions, and some minor ones, since it was first posted. Each chapter will include a changelog at the bottom recording what edits are made.

The soon-to-be Her Majesty Byleth Eisner von Hresvelg, Empress of Adrestia and of Fódlan United, Liberator of Fodlán, Vice-Commander-in-Chief of the Imperial Army, the New Beginning, Bearer of the Sword of the Creator, Chancellor and Distinguished Professor Emerita of Garreg Mach Academy, the Ashen Demon, lay back in her chair, trying to memorize all the new syllables her name was about to grow.

She worked her way backward, trying to remember each piece as she went. First, or last, rather, was the Ashen Demon, a name from her mercenary days. She’d thought back to when she’d first overheard some of her father’s band talking about the Ashen Demon, and asked him what it was.

_Jeralt chuckled. “That’s you, kid. They came up with it at the tavern a few weeks ago, I think. They were telling stories about how you never show fear in battle…” His voice trailed off a bit before he continued. “I suppose you don’t, do you?”_

_“I guess not,” was Byleth’s reply. She hadn’t been entirely sure, back then, what fear was—fear or any other emotion. But she knew what scared people looked like, and she was pretty sure she’d never been like that. So she must not have been afraid._

_“Well, if you get a reputation, maybe it’ll spare us a few fights. Nobody wants to fight a demon.”_

_Jeralt smiled at her, but she didn’t smile back. She never smiled._

Byleth tried to suppress the anger that came with memories of her father. She missed him, and she hadn’t finished getting revenge on those responsible for his murder. But there was no use dwelling on it now.

A few mornings ago, just before her friends sat her down with a herald to decide on her style, Byleth had overheard a report that Leonie, Byleth’s former student and her father’s old apprentice, had started a mercenary band of her own, the Jeralt Company. Byleth had felt a pang of regret at the reminder of how much Leonie had looked up to her first mentor, and what had happened when they last met, in battle, at the Bridge of Myrddin.

_When Leonie saw Byleth, she screamed. “Professor! You know Captain Jeralt's killer was connected to the Empire! Why did you side with them?! Answer me, traitor!”_

_Byleth was so enraged that Leonie didn’t have time to draw her bow before the Sword of the Creator sliced across her chest. How dare she accuse Byleth of betraying her father!_

_The moment of anger passed as Leonie fell to the ground. She started to say something, but Byleth stopped the world before she could hear what it was. She was angry at herself, now, for losing control. She’d broken her promise herself not to take lives unnecessarily in this war. She knew that she was better than this. She would do better._

_After a moment to center her thoughts, Byleth stepped back through the moments. This time, she braced herself as Leonie’s words dug into her, but she held her composure. Instead of raising her sword, she tried to yell back, “The Empire isn’t—”_

_Cries erupted from down the bridge, and when Byleth turned to look back at Leonie, she found herself staring at the tip of an arrow, drawn by a woman holding back tears. Struggling to contain her own, Byleth barely managed to say “I’m sorry,” before she fled. She ran down the bridge, hoping that she could bring an end to the battle before Leonie caught up to her._

Knowing that Leonie had chosen such a fitting memorial for Jeralt made Byleth happy, though, and inspired her to make her own. Later that afternoon, while working with the Herald, Byleth had insisted on the Ashen Demon being included. She knew her father would have loved it.

* * *

Byleth’s next title was far too long all on its own. Chancellor and Distinguished Professor Emeritus of Garreg Mach Academy. But in many ways, it fit. After all that she’d been through at the monastery, she’d never really be able to leave it behind. She looked out the window towards the setting sun. Maybe it wasn’t too late for a short walk around while she reminisced.

She got up, stretched, grabbed her sword, and headed out the door into the familiar courtyard. She turned to her right, and her smile faded when she saw the doors lining the wall. The rooms were all occupied, now, but not all by the students she knew them by. She had avoided the rest of the dormitories since returning to the monastery, but maybe now was the time to confront them. With a heavy sigh, she walked slowly down the courtyard, stopping at each door in turn.

The first was Dedue’s. Ironic that, among all the students at the Academy, her next-door neighbour was the one she’d spoken to the least. Dedue didn’t talk much to anyone, least of all someone he had little need to interact with. He spent most of his time either in the kitchens or with Dimitri, his house leader. She cringed inwardly as she remembered his fate; he’d deserved better.

Next came Ashe. He was the only person she knew to have fought for the Kingdom and survived. He hadn’t been far when she and Edelgard slew the Immaculate One, and she’d been surprised to later find out he’d laid down his arms and surrendered. She’d barely spoken to him since, but apparently he was growing close to Ingrid, who had convinced him to accept the Empire’s victory.

The last two rooms in her block, she knew as Ignatz’s and Raphael’s. The last she’d seen Ignatz was shortly after she ran from Leonie at the Bridge of Myrddin. He’d been fighting alongside the Alliance forces, but disappeared when they won the battle. She hoped he survived. As for Raphael, she’d heard no news of him since before the war. Even though it felt like less than a year to Byleth, she knew it had been almost six.

Not knowing the fates of the two men, Byleth wasn’t sure what to feel, so she walked down a set of steps to the next block and continued. The next block was where the Black Eagles’ commoners and minor nobles had lived. The Eagles were the first friends Byleth had ever known, and she loved every one of them. As she taught them the ways of combat, they’d taught her all the bits of life she’d missed out on. When she was suggested as the new ceremonial head of the Academy when it reopened next month, she knew that not a single one of them would let her refuse.

She walked quickly to the last room on the block, which had belonged to Annette. A tear ran down her cheek as she approached. Like Ashe, she fought for the last of the kingdom at the Battle of Fhirdiad. Byleth had been so close to ending the war without losing her life too, but it wasn’t to be. Ever the fighter, Annette had refused to surrender even when it was clear her side had lost. At least she died fighting.

She was about to head down when she noticed something she’d missed on room just before Annette’s. A large sign had been nailed to one of the doors, reading, “Bernie’s Room: KEEP OUT!” Byleth couldn’t stop herself from laughing out loud. Bernadetta had grown over the years, but some things would probably never change. Byleth wondered if there were any exceptions to the rule. She suspected there was at least one.

Her smile barely faded as she descended the steps to the last of the commoners’ rooms. There were only three rooms here. The first two belonged to Lysithea and Mercedes, who were probably off preparing sweets. Lysithea had insisted on being able to sample everything personally, to make sure it was of highest quality. Byleth chuckled, imagining the chaos in the kitchens.

The last room on the lower floor was Leonie’s. She felt another pang of regret, but there was nothing more to be done now. She briefly wondered if she would ever get a chance to tell the now-mercenary the truth about Jeralt’s murder, but, sadly, it wouldn’t be today. Byleth felt a sudden swelling of emotion when she realized that Leonie would have wanted to be there tomorrow. But, she thought as she wiped her tears from her eyes, at least she was doing what she loved.

Tucked behind Leonie’s dorm lay the stairs up to the nobles’ rooms. Byleth started to walk that way, but stopped and turned around. She didn’t really want to go back inside, and there were memories up there that she wasn’t yet ready to confront. She swallowed them down, as she tried to remember which title came next.

* * *

She wandered over to the pond as she tried to remember, sat on a bench, and looked out at the colours of sunset playing across the water. She hefted the Sword of the Creator onto her lap and it came to her. Of course. Bearer of the Sword of the Creator. She sighed at the thought, and looked down at the Relic she’d been, well, bearing. Her entire year at Garreg Mach had been strange, even to her naïve self, with a few particular moments to truly punctuate it. The day she met the Sword of the Creator was definitely one of them.

_As she watched the bulky, bony sword fly into the air, Byleth noticed that something was off. The spin should have been centered on the hilt, the sword’s center of gravity, yet the sword seemed to spin about the blade. It wasn’t flying straight. Too late, she realized that it was coming towards her, and her reflexes didn’t kick in in time. She was reaching for the goddess’s power when it landed, perfectly, in her left hand._

_Byleth looked down in surprise before she remembered she didn’t have time to question it. She turned back to the mage who, realizing he was cornered, gathered a ball of flames and shot it at her. She knew that the best way to defend against magic was to dodge it, but she felt a strange power from the sword, interfering with her reflexes. The sword… wanted to be used? Byleth raised her left arm, barely thinking, and shocked herself by_ parrying _the spell._

_“What?” The mage was equally surprised, apparently._

_Byleth felt a surge of power, and looked to the sword. It was glowing, now, like Thunderbrand had in Catherine’s hands. She stared at it in amazement, and as she slowly swung the sword round, it began to feel more and more comfortable. She’d never held it before, she knew, but it felt familiar to her. Natural. Like she had been training with it all her life._

_In her moment of awe, she’d taken her eyes off of the enemy mage. She quickly threw her other, lesser sword aside and resumed a proper battle stance. Another fireball flew at her. This time, there was no hesitation as she swatted it easily from the air._

_Byleth rose to her full height and glared at the mage. Clearly terrified, he tried to back away. With nowhere to go, though, he threw up a magical barrier instead. Ordinarily, such a shield was a pain to get around, but Byleth’s new instincts told her otherwise. She brought her sword down on the barrier, and it cracked under the sword’s might. She didn’t let go, and the strain grew until the barrier shattered, the sword flying past the mage. In one smooth motion, she swung her sword backhand across the mage’s chest. He crumpled to the ground, dead._

_Byleth took a deep breath, let herself relax, and turned to give the mysterious weapon a proper look._

The Sword of the Creator was truly unique, even among Relics. It was a tenet of basic training to imagine your weapon as an extension of your body, but when she held the Sword, she barely had to imagine. It was almost alive, a part of her. She’d asked the bearers of a few other Relics, and as far as she could tell, no one shared her experience with the Sword.

It also lacked a Crest Stone. Every other Relic a Crest Stone embedded in it, and could attune with anyone bearing the matching Crest. Without a Crest Stone, attunement was supposed to be impossible. But the Sword of the Creator had only an empty space where its Crest Stone would go, and attuned to Byleth anyway. What’s more, it didn’t attune to Edelgard, the only other person alive to share Byleth’s Crest of Flames. The Sword glowed for Byleth and Byleth alone. It frustrated Byleth that she couldn’t figure out why. 

She still wasn’t sure she liked the formal title, though—Bearer of Sword of the Creator. Despite her almost familial feelings towards the Sword, she didn’t like the idea of defining herself by it. But the herald wouldn’t take no for an answer. It was the stuff of legends, he said. When Dorothea pointed out that everyone knew her by the Sword anyway, and a title wouldn’t make much difference, Byleth recognized a losing battle and reluctantly agreed. Truth be told, she was grateful she had managed to convince the herald not to include the Crest of Flames too. Edelgard would not have been amused, and Byleth didn’t dislike the herald enough to let him find out the hard way.

Byleth considered throwing a few casts into the pond, but no, now wasn’t the time. She continued her walk towards the market and the monastery’s main gates.

The only people left in the market were the last of the merchants packing up their wagons for the evening. Byleth didn’t recognize any of them. She looked out at the gate, and her thoughts turned to the strange day that she’d come to the monastery, and to her greatest regret: the day in the Sealed Forest that she lost Sothis.

* * *

_She first met the ancient goddess, the long-dead ruler of Fódlan, in her dreams. One morning, the morning everything began, they spoke for the first time. The strange girl she’d seen introduced herself as Sothis, the Beginning. The names meant nothing to Byleth, and she thought it was just another dream._

_Not long after, she had found herself defending three young students from bandits, and got an axe in her back when she tried to save the girl she later learned was called Edelgard. It was a lethal blow, and by all rights Byleth’s life should have been over then and there._

_Instead, she found herself back in the dreamspace in front of a very angry Sothis. Somehow the two of them were bound, and Sothis was not interested in dying. The exasperated girl announced that she would have to rewind time to correct the mistake. Her tone betrayed how ordinary it was to her. Byleth thought it was just a crazed dying dream at first, but when the moments snapped back, she realized Sothis really did have access to a power beyond anything she’d ever heard of._

_She saved Edelgard properly on the second try._

The events that morning had been strange indeed, even to Byleth’s naïve self, but they were not the end of it. She’d been invited to Garreg Mach after the battle, and as Byleth paced the monastery’s great halls, oblivious to the few servants finishing preparations, she realized she was retracing her steps from that first morning.

Over ten months at Garreg Mach, Sothis had been there beside her, as a teacher, supporter, and confidant. She loved to make fun of Byleth’s mistakes, but she was also caring and maternal. She was protective of the little ones, and gave Byleth access to her power over time so that she could save their lives just as Sothis had saved hers. The Divine Pulse, as the goddess called it, had proven invaluable over the years, but it came at a terrible cost. At first, Sothis was there to share the burden with her, but ever since she disappeared, Byleth was left to carry it alone.

By now, Byleth had reached the end of the hall. She peered up the stairs. Up there, in the audience hall, she had met the archbishop and was first told she would be a professor. But she didn’t continue upwards; instead, she looked out to the right, towards her father’s grave. The sky was darkening, but she could make time for him, tonight of all nights. 

_As Byleth and her class followed the path through the Sealed Forest, they all knew they were walking into a trap. But none of them had known its true nature. With rage filling her eyes, Byleth swung the Sword of the Creator at Kronya, the woman responsible for her father’s death. Kronya cried out to Solon, a demon in the shape of a human, for help. Solon didn’t help her, though; instead, he used her life to spring the real trap._

_Byleth was soon engulfed in dark magic, the likes of which she’d never seen. When it finally subsided, she found herself surrounded by darkness, exiled to a nowhere space with no way out. But she wasn’t alone. Sothis was there too, sitting on her throne, and she was not pleased._

_Sothis launched into another tirade, but once it was out of her system, she became surprisingly calm and matter-of-fact. She revealed to Byleth that she was indeed the goddess of old, and that her power could free them from the void. But without a body, Sothis could not use it. So that they could escape, Sothis would have to merge her soul into Byleth’s, so that Byleth could access the goddess’s power in full._

_Byleth would never forget Sothis’s face as the goddess descended the steps from the throne. She wore the most wicked smile Byleth had ever seen, confident, satisfied, and knowing. It was a smile that you never wanted to be on the wrong side of, a smile that said “I know something that you don’t, and this makes me very happy.” Sothis spoke, softly and formally, and her words were etched into Byleth’s mind._

_“Your will and mine are now as one. Both sides of time are revealed to you, and you alone. You know I am the Beginning. What shall you do?”_

_A ribbon of light burst from the goddess, filling the darkness around them with glowing stars. Eyes locked on Byleth, Sothis rose in the air and floated towards her. As she reached her arm out, Byleth found herself mirroring the motion. As Sothis’s hand began to dissolve into nothing, Byleth closed her eyes and took in the growing power._

_She was absorbing not only Sothis’s power, but her thoughts and feelings and feelings as well. She was inheriting the powers of a goddess, and her responsibilities as well. To guide and protect the people of Fódlan. To save those she cared about. And not to die a third idiotic death._

_Byleth didn’t need to open her eyes to know when the process was complete, and Sothis was completely a part of her. She could feel the entire vastness of the goddess’s power, and the fabric of the world beneath it. It was terrifying, but comforting all the same. It was unlike any magic she had ever felt. She opened her eyes, and she found herself blazing with an ethereal light._

_She channeled her new power into the Sword of the Creator, igniting it like never before. A red glow burst from the Crest Stone socket as she raised the Sword and cut into the very fabric of reality itself. She tore through the void and into the realm from which she had been cast, carving herself an opening back into the world._

_She landed in front of her students, sword alight, bearing plain her rage. Her eyes and hair had changed colour to a light green, and now they almost glowed as she stared down the villain Solon. Though it was far from the first time she’d looked down at someone terrified that they were about to die, it was the first time the fear had ever brought her pleasure._

By the time she reached her father’s grave, Byleth was in tears. Her tie to the Sothis’s power had been cut when she and Edelgard slew the Immaculate One and ended the war. Byleth’s heart started beating, for the first time in her life. What had kept her alive without it? Why had she lost the power? The Crest of Flames still ran in her blood, and the Sword of the Creator still glowed for her, but everything else to do with Sothis was gone. She would likely learn what had really happened between them. Byleth clenched her fists and let out a scream.

She missed Sothis, and she was angry at Solon and Kronya for taking her away. And Thales, the man who had been directing them both, was still out there. She would find him, someday, and make him suffer. Death was too good for him.

Byleth expected never to find a way to properly remember Sothis, not as the goddess, but as her friend, companion, and benefactor. One day, though, the thought had simply popped into her head. Sothis had called herself the Beginning the first time they spoke, as well as the last. And Byleth was, in a way, her successor. So why not call herself the New Beginning? It was incredibly arrogant, but fortunately, no-one else knew Sothis’s title. To Byleth, it was an honour to Sothis and her sacrifice, and a reminder of the responsibility passed on to her. To the rest of the world, it was about a new future for Fódlan. Byleth giggled and smirked a little at her private joke.

* * *

Byleth looked up at the sky. The last glimmers of twilight kissed the horizon, with the night coming fast. She tried to remember the next title as she made her way back to her room.

Ah, right. Commander-in-Chief of the Imperial Army. She giggled again, before her thoughts turned somber.

_“So it is my teacher who stands in my way. I always knew it would come to this…”_

_“Professor, kill Edelgard at once. She is a danger to all of Fódlan. Such a rebellious heart cannot be allowed to keep beating.” The archbishop’s rage was plain on her face._

_Byleth turned slowly to face Edelgard. So many thoughts filled her mind, but as she raised her sword, not one made it past her lips. How could you betray me like this? Why do you hate the Church? Were they behind your torture? Why did you ask me to come with you to Enbarr? Were you just trying to distract me? How could you work with evils like Solon?_

_She tried to calm herself, but the sting of betrayal was too strong. The Adrestian Emperor didn’t move as Byleth let out a cry and brought the Sword of the Creator down on her._

_But she stopped her swing in mid-air. No. She couldn’t bring herself to do it. It wasn’t right._

_“I will withdraw… for now. Come, Hubert!”_

_And then she was gone. Byleth turned, pain on her face, to face the indignant archbishop. She realized, suddenly, too late, that she was terrified of Rhea. She had seen this look on Rhea’s face before, after she brought rebels back as prisoners to Garreg Mach. It had sickened her when Rhea had ordered their execution._

_Was that what she’d become just now? The archbishop’s executioner?_

_Her thoughts were interrupted by Rhea screaming, “To flee is futile, wick—,” Panicked, Byleth instinctively reached for Sothis’s power. The world turned inside out, and everything stopped._

_With new moments to spare, Byleth stopped and took a deep breath. She couldn’t support Rhea. Not like this. It was wrong. It was… she’d be betraying Sothis, wouldn’t she? The goddess had wanted her to protect the “little ones”, Edelgard among them. And she, too, was disturbed by Rhea’s callousness._

_Byleth wracked her brain, trying to figure out why Edelgard had turned against her. She remembered how wonderful it was to be alone with her. She remembered all the conversations they’d shared, the stories of torture, the coronation. She remembered her disgust at what happened in Remire._

_Remire. The Flame Emperor—Edelgard, she now knew—had offered to join forces with her. The pieces clicked into place in Byleth’s mind. As a glimmer of understanding started to form, more questions filled her brain. And only one way to get answers from Edelgard._

_She drew time back and released her hold on its flow. Once again she held the Sword of the Creator over Edelgard, preparing to strike. This time, though, she lowered her weapon and stepped behind the Flame Emperor, turning to face Rhea._

_She didn’t know what was to come, but she would not abandon her student today._

She’d taught Edelgard most of what she knew about combat and tactics, become her confidant, and chosen to stand by her side on the most difficult day of her life. Little wonder, then, that she would become the Emperor’s most trusted military advisor.

But Edelgard, anxious about showing any weakness or impropriety, had gone the entire war trying to play down Byleth’s role. By the end of the war, the charade had gotten ridiculous. When Ferdinand had had the courage to suggest a formal commission for Byleth, the Emperor’s face had gone bone white and she shot the idea down immediately. He’d had a smug grin on his face for two days once he’d worked out what Byleth’s new rank was going to be.

* * *

As Byleth made her way back into her quarters, contemplating the second-to-last title she had to remember, she shook her head at the myth that had grown around her.

She supposed that some of it was inevitable. She had been granted the actual powers of an actual goddess, and the looks to go with it. She was also one of the most skilled combatants on the continent. But the whispers also said that luck was on her side. It wasn’t true, of course, but for a while it had been close. When she’d had access to the Divine Pulse, insurmountable obstacles became doable, and difficult battles routine.

But that wasn’t really what bothered her so much. No, it was the title that she would be stuck with for the rest of her life: “Liberator of Fódlan”. Sadly, she had no real choice in the matter. Waging a continent-wide war had made the Adrestian Empire unpopular in some circles, and simply winning wasn’t enough to overcome the resentment. The Empire needed to be not only victors, but heroes. She and Edelgard had personally slain the Immaculate One, brought down the Church of Seiros, and ended the war. They were shoo-ins for the role.

Hubert had laid out the case for the propaganda, but to Byleth’s surprise, it was Dorothea who’d run away with it. With the help of Hubert’s spy networks, she had carefully crafted stories to address the hesitations of each major pocket of resistance. Sometimes, the Church was the enemy, other times it was the hereditary nobility and their Crests. She was composing an opera of the war, with Byleth and Edelgard as the star characters, and was trying to convince her old company to travel and perform it across the continent.

As Byleth doffed her clothes and prepared for bed, she reflected that there was still one benefit to the whole thing. Edelgard, the hereditary Emperor, was hard at work dismantling the hereditary nobility and building a new, merit-based society. Some of the nobles called her a hypocrite, but for some reason, the label never managed to stick to the greatest hero of the Empire.

* * *

Byleth could never forget the last component of the name that would soon be hers. It was worth remembering and cherishing forever. As she crawled into bed, she turned the words over in her mind, smiling with unrestrained joy.

Her Majesty Byleth Eisner von Hresvelg, Empress of Adrestia and of Fódlan United.

It wasn’t that she would be Empress, of course. She didn’t really think herself suitable to govern a nation. She didn’t have the patience for politics, and she lacked the detailed knowledge of public policy matters that was essential for the role. And it wasn’t like actually being Empress was going to let her do anything she cared about that she couldn’t already do in practice. She was a hero, after all.

It was that she would be _Edelgard’s_ Empress.

El would finally, truly be hers. Their feelings for each other had been growing even back in the Academy days, but by the end of the war, they were both madly in love with each other. Everyone stationed at the monastery during the war had known, apparently, except for the two of them. El had been too scared of rejection and of showing any softness to her soldiers, and Byleth herself had been completely oblivious to the obvious signs. There were some things she was still learning.

Pushing away her insecurities to admit her love to El had somehow felt more difficult than anything in the war. But she managed it, and now, six months later, they were finally going to be married. She clutched her sheets tight and smiled, drinking in the feeling. She hoped that would never go away.

The trappings of rule were, frankly, ridiculous. Byleth had been perfectly happy with a name that didn’t take up a paragraph, for instance, and she’d already been given several lectures about how her favourite tights hardly befit an Empress. She knew that getting dragged into more politics was inevitable. But at this point she wasn’t concerned with pleasing anyone other than her beloved El, and hopefully one perk of the position was that she wouldn’t have to try.

Another perk she hoped for was to finally get some proper time alone with El. The Emperor was endlessly busy stabilizing the nation, and Hubert had rather strong opinions about what was appropriate before their marriage. He was a hypocrite, but that didn’t stop him from getting in the way when El managed to find a rare moment of free time. 

Byleth extinguished her candle and curled up to rest. Tomorrow would be the start of a new life, and she didn’t want to sleep through it. But she couldn’t calm her excitement. Thoughts of having El all to herself danced through her head. 

Her right hand slipped between her thighs. A little more practice couldn’t hurt. 


	2. 1. Ladies of Hresvelg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Chapter 1. Ao3 insists on calling it Chapter 2. Ao3 is wrong.

_I don’t remember anything from before coming to Fódlan. I don’t even remember remembering._

“I thought I might find you here, my Empress.”

Byleth turned to see Edelgard—her wife!—cresting the stairs to the Goddess Tower’s balcony. She wore a longing smile on her face. She replied, “I was getting tired of the party, and the view tonight is beautiful.”

Byleth turned away from her new wife and gestured out into the night. Up here, at the highest point of the monastery, they could see the entire complex bathed in blue moonlight. The great hall was still awash with the light and sound of a grand wedding ball, and light flickered out from the old Black Eagles classroom. Dorothea had set it up for a private after-party of sorts, but even the Eagles were too much for Byleth tonight.

Edelgard laughed as she drew closer. “There’s only one view I want to admire tonight, and you know it’s not the monastery.”

Byleth turned back to face Edelgard. The Emperor was stunningly beautiful tonight, clad in a gorgeous crimson dress, a black shawl, and elegant regalia, topped off with a rose in her hair. Byleth barely had time to appreciate the sight before she was lost in Edelgard’s deep, lavender eyes. She took Edelgard’s arms into her own as time slowed down.

After all of the wartime stress, all of the battles, all of the waiting, this was it. This was the moment that they had both been waiting for. Not the ceremony, not the ball, not the party. Those were for everyone else. This moment was theirs and theirs alone.

Edelgard’s hand reached up to cup Byleth’s cheek. She spoke, softly and plaintively. “You’re finally mine. Mine forever.”

In that moment, she wasn’t the Emperor, standing strong before an entire nation. Nor even Edelgard, leader of a circle of friends from Academy days. She was just El: a lonely girl struggling with the scars of abuse, in need of comfort and love.

Byleth held her close. Their lips met. The kiss was slow and gentle at first, just a light touch of the lips. It wasn’t their first kiss of the day, far from it, but El had been wearing her public face, guarded and wary. Now that they were alone, though, Byleth could feel her breaking free. The kiss quickly grew in passion and intensity.

Moments later, they had their arms around each other, pressing their bodies tightly together. The once-innocent kiss became a passionate dance, a duel of tongues, fighting for control.

El grabbed Byleth’s head from behind and tilted it to the side, to get better access to her mouth. Byleth answered by planting her right foot between Edelgard’s legs and shifting her weight forward. El was forced backwards, stumbling.Her body’s weight fell into Byleth’s arms. Never breaking the kiss, Byleth dipped her gracefully and deeply.

After what seemed like an eternity in the perfect kiss, Byleth’s arms began to feel sore. Gently, she drew El out of the kiss and lowered her. El hung from Byleth’s neck, mercifully carrying her own weight. Byleth smiled greedily at her. She said, “That means you’re mine, too.”

“I would not have it any other way,” El replied, smiling back warmly.

Byleth was about to let her go, but thought better of it. Instead, she swung her back up, putting El between her and the tower wall. As El let out a little shriek, Byleth strode forwards, forcing her wife back. Once El was pinned, Byleth brought her right hand around to grab at her breasts, but was stopped by the tight sleeves on her dress.

Byleth cursed, stepped back, and waved her arms around, trying to find the limits on her motion. “This dress is so frustrating! I can’t bring my arms forward!”

El laughed at her wife’s struggles, then said “Give me a moment, I know what to do.”

Byleth looked over with curiosity as El knelt down, hiked up her dress, and produced a knife from a sheath strapped to her thigh. She stood back up and said “Hold out your arm.”

Byleth was more than a little surprised—not that El had a knife at all, as Byleth had two daggers and a knife concealed among her own wedding garments—but that she was entirely nonchalant about cutting open a gown that had taken weeks to put together.

Byleth wasn’t going to let it bother her, though, not right now, so she extended her arm. El slipped the point of her knife under the sleeve of Byleth’s dress and held the fabric taut with her other hand. Byleth held her arm steady, knowing that any sudden movement would risk her getting hurt. El pushed the knife upward, trying to cut the dress open, but the fabric wouldn’t yield.

El frowned. Byleth was about to say something when El pulled the knife out, flipped Byleth’s wrist over, then carefully cut the first few stitches of the seam with the knife. Wordlessly, she slipped the knife under and deftly ran it up Byleth’s arm, slicing the sleeve open up to the shoulder.

Once the knife was clear, Byleth tested the range of motion. “Much better,” she said.

The sleeve hung lazily in the wind as she did so, looking much like the open sleeves of her favourite jacket. As she looked at it, El giggled. “That really does suit you. You might start a new trend.”

Byleth laughed back and extended her other arm. Edelgard liberated it too, then knelt down, strapping the knife back into its sheath. She stood up and smiled at Byleth “Now, where was I?”

Byleth shoved El back against the wall with her left forearm, reaching under her wife’s dress with her right hand. As she rubbed her hand against El’s undergarments, she said, “Right where you belong.”

Part of her felt sadistic pleasure at the prospect of reducing the almighty Emperor to a quivering, moaning mess, putty in her hands. Even more, though, she was overcome with intense feelings of love and protection. Her El was always afraid to let her guard down, always afraid to show the slightest bit of weakness. Now, finally, she was letting go and letting Byleth take control, accepting the pleasure Byleth longed to give her.

Byleth couldn’t think of a more wonderful wedding gift.

Ingrid wasn’t exactly thrilled to be guarding a bedroom after spending the night partying, but she knew that every other option was worse. She was still in the dress Mercedes had somehow convinced her to wear for the wedding; she hadn’t had the time to change after Dorothea’s afterparty. The dress wasn’t exactly suited for combat, but she was expecting a quiet night. Any assassin with a shred of decency wouldn’t try anything on the Emperor’s wedding night, and it was hardly going to be a good opportunity anyway. She was annoyed that she probably wasn’t going to get much sleep, though.

Giggling voices drifted up from the stairwell across the hall, the one that led down to ground level. Ingrid sighed inwardly. It was probably a gaggle of drunken young noblewomen, spoiled beyond belief, who didn’t want to go to sleep after the festivities. She hated the spoiled children who had no concern for their families, lands, or vassals, only for how _terribly poorly_ they were treated. Some of them seemed unaware that there had been a war at all. She looked forward to the Emperor expelling them from the nobility and forcing them to learn the realities of the world.

Before whoever it was reached the top of the stairs, the voices stopped. For a moment, Ingrid was hopeful that they were leaving. She could have a peaceful, uneventful night. But when she started to hear smacking sounds, she knew she would have no such luck. She sighed again and walked over to confront the delinquents.

“All right, who’s there—Y-Your Majesties?” Ingrid’s cheeks flushed at the sight waiting for her.

The Professor—no, the Empress, she reminded herself—was held against the wall by the Emperor. They were violently kissing, from the looks and sounds of it. Both of their dresses were in much worse condition than they had been when she’d seen them hours earlier, covered in dirt and debris. One shoulder of the Emperor’s dress was hanging loosely off her arm, her shawl tied around her waist, and meanwhile, the Empress’s gown was—had she _cut_ the sleeves open?

The Imperial couple were clearly intoxicated, but not from alcohol. It wasn’t any of Ingrid’s business, really, but she figured it was nice to see that they got along so well in private. Just, maybe, a little bit _more_ private would be nice..

The Professor—Empress!—looked up at the embarrassed knight and, as soon as she was free, replied with a bit of a sheepish tone. Ingrid had never heard her sound so flustered. “Ingrid! We, uh, weren’t expecting to see you here. What are you doing?”

Ingrid let her head fall into her hand as she answered, “Guarding an empty bedroom, apparently. We all thought you’d wandered off to bed and wouldn’t want to be disturbed.”

The Emperor put her hand to her mouth to stifle a chuckle, recovering enough composure to speak. “Oh, we, uh, decided to take in the night a little before bed.” Ingrid knew a flimsy excuse when she heard one, but she knew better than to question Her Majesty. “You know that guarding us really isn’t necessary. Get some sleep.” The Emperor could barely stifle her giggles.

Her laughter was contagious, and Ingrid soon found herself joining in. She struggled not to lose herself completely. “Oh, I know, but offering to guard you myself was the only way to keep Hubert from doing it. Or worse, Ferdinand _von Aegir_ ,” she said mockingly.

That did it. The Emperor burst out laughing, and soon all three of them were buckling over, laughing at the absurdity of the situation. As the laughter began to die down, Ingrid realized that they could be stuck here for a while, sharing jokes on the royal couple’s wedding night. It would be lovely, but they had more important things to be doing. She tried not to think about that.

Surprised yet grateful that neither of them replied with a quip of their own, she looked up to see that the Emperor and Empress were back at it, going at each other like starving wyverns. She laughed awkwardly, drawing their attention back to her.

“Just… You two know you have a room upstairs waiting for you, right?” Ingrid said, blushing. It was a stupid thing to say. Of course they knew.

“Oh, all right.” The Emperor turned and, regaining some of her usual demeanor, began to walk up towards Ingrid. She glanced back at the Empress and stepped out of the way, waiting for her to take the lead.

Momentarily, Ingrid was taken aback by the Emperor’s behaviour. Was she _deferring_ to the Empress? It was entirely out of character. She blushed harder as she involuntarily considered the implications, but she was thankfully distracted by the Empress walking by her, towards the flight of stairs leading up to their chamber. As the Emperor followed, Ingrid followed her across the hall, so that she could resume her post.

When they got to the stairwell, the Emperor took the Empress’s hand and turned to Ingrid. “And Ingrid, I want you getting some sleep tonight. The usual guard will be fine. That’s an order,” she said.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Ingrid replied, sighing. It was no good getting told off but, still, it was a relief. She would get a proper night’s sleep after all. “Good night to both of you.”

The Empress nudged the Emperor onward and turned back to Ingrid. Cheerfully, she said, “Good night!” Then, without warning, she leaned over and kissed Ingrid on the cheek before disappearing up the stairs herself.

Stunned, Ingrid slowly put a hand to her beet-red cheek and stammered “P-Professor?” But it was too late. She was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally managed to finish a real chapter! Four months, wooo! We spent at least two months with this like 90% done but with everything could on, couldn't manage to wrap up the first scene. On the plus side, we've got lots of leeway to be faster with the next one. :)
> 
> Originally, we were going to start the story proper at the wedding ball, but this ended up working out much better. Props to Ingrid for surviving one of the most awkward guard duty shifts ever. (One of our beta readers asked if it's going towards F/F/F with Ingrid. Just in case anyone else is wondering, the answer is no. No plans for that.)
> 
> The epigraph at the start of the chapter is something we want to experiment with, in the style of Brandon Sanderson. If we can make them half as enjoyable and powerful as he can, we'll consider it a major success.
> 
> Major thanks to all of the folk to did a beta read, our lovely wife and the Discord gang. Their feedback was incredibly valuable, especially with confusing characterizations of Ingrid and Edelgard and one or two bits that didn't actually make sense as I originally wrote them.

**Author's Note:**

> Mmmmm, thirsty Byleth. And yes, they really were that obvious and oblivious.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this romp through bits of Byleth's past. She has a lot of baggage to unpack, and we're gonna work our way through it, bit by bit. There are a few places where Byleth might seem out of character to some readers; this is probably intentional on our part because we are aiming for something specific.... but spoilers!
> 
> The flashback to the events of chapter 11 takes a bit of a artistic license with canon, but there's some important setup through here and we hope you won't mind. Many thanks to folks on the ER Discord for their feedback; this is much improved from the original.
> 
> Next up: the first real chapter takes place on the night after the wedding!
> 
> Changelog:  
> 2020-04-06: Removed chapter title; just left as "Prologue". Minor edits to some paragraphs in the third-last and last scenes for consistency with canon, specifically that Byleth will co-reign with Edelgard.  
> 2020-02-24: Changed the last three paragraphs a bit for a stronger, more forward-looking ending.  
> 2020-02-24: Minor grammar/wording fixes; cut out the chapter 1 flashback and a few paragraphs of the chapter 4 flashback for better flow.  
> 2020-02-23: Major expansion/rewrite, including flashbacks. Much better now.  
> 2020-02-22: First draft posted for feedback.


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